


The Scening Route to the Heart

by MashiarasDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bondage, D/s, Dean/Benny are in a play relationship (non-romantic), Dom!Cas, Domme!Charlie, Domme!Rowena, Feels, Gags, Kink, M/M, Panties, Safe Sane and Consensual, Smut, Sub!Benny, Sub!Dean, dom!Dean, switch!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12853500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashiarasDream/pseuds/MashiarasDream
Summary: Dean Winchester is 100% Dom. Everyone at the club and all of his kinky friends know it. Or should know it. Because somehow they all think it’s a good idea to challenge him on that assumption. In fact, they egg him on enough that Dean agrees to meet their challenge - just to prove them wrong obviously - and to sub for Cas for one night only. And that would all be well and good if there only weren’t these pesky feelings that he’s been harboring for his best friend for basically ever…





	The Scening Route to the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for the setup is [keepcalmanddonotblink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepcalmanddonotblink/pseuds/keepcalmanddonotblink)’s. With it, she (accidentally?) pushed me into finally writing smut when writing kink. *sweats nervously* 
> 
> A special shoutout to the [husband](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchingOne/pseuds/WatchingOne) for betaing kinky smut without batting an eye.

“Overcompensation is a thing, Dean.”

“No, it’s not. Or I mean, it is. But not for me!” Dean protests

Charlie raises her eyebrows at him and Cas has this little smirk that says nothing good. Dean glowers at his friends.

“Oh come on, Dean, between the leathers and frikking _Benny_ , don’t you think there might be a tiny little bit of truth to what Ro said?”

And Charlie is way too gleeful about this for Dean’s taste. “What’s wrong with Benny?” he snaps because Benny’s a cool guy and his friend.

“Nothing is wrong with Benny!” Charlie rolls her eyes. “He is the biggest sweetheart at the club. Literally. The biggest. You had to get the biggest sub you could find for yourself, just so that it would be clear you’re a real Dom. What about that does not scream posturing to you?”

Dean opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. The sheer audacity of the argument has rendered him speechless. So he waves his hands in the air and defaults to looking at Cas for help.

But all Cas does is shrug. “We both know that she’s not wrong.”

And maybe Dean should have seen this coming, but it still deflates him. “Traitor,” he mutters.

“Hey, I call it as I see it.” And the fucker sounds smug about it, too.

Dean shakes his head, not sure whether he’s seriously pissed at Cas for this or not. So he goes with something in the middle. “The redheads are one thing. But you, too? We’ve been fucking best friends for how long now?”

“Correction: We have not been fucking,” Cas replies. “But we could be. If you were man enough to admit that you want it.”

And Dean’s been wrong about Cas being his best friend, apparently. Because now he kind of wants to punch his face. Especially since that would mean that Cas would have better things to do than watching the tips of Dean’s ears turn red. Which he is totally doing, the bastard. Because they have been friends long enough that he knows all of Dean’s tells.

“Dude, don’t do it,” Charlie interjects. “No, not you, Dean, you go and sub for whoever you want, sweetie. I mean, not for me, I’m strictly a one-woman-gal. But you two, uh-uh, not a good idea.”

“And why’s that?” Dean turns around to her, eyebrows drawn together in a frown. He’s already asked the question when he notices that he wasn’t supposed to like the idea in the first place and that was maybe not the best question to make Charlie and Cas believe that the idea holds absolutely no appeal for him. Which it doesn’t. Cause he’s never thought about this. No. Hasn’t. Maybe if Cas was into subbing. But as it is? Nope. Nopety-nope. Of course not.

“Because you, Dean Winchester, don’t do relationships. And Cas here does nothing _but_ relationships. You’re never even going to get to the power dynamics, you’re incompatible from the start.”

“Dude, I don’t..:” Dean starts at the same time that Cas says, “Charlie, that’s not…” They both stop and stare at each other, and then Dean starts chuckling and Cas breaks into a smile even as he rolls his eyes.

They stare at each other for a moment too long, and it does weird things to Dean’s stomach. Cas’ smile deepens. Then he finally turns back to Charlie. “There are other kinds of relationships than romantic ones. Dean does those. So do I.”

Which - that shouldn’t make Dean’s mouth dry, right? But it does, so he quickly clears his throat and deflects. “Which brings us right back to the original discussion. We’re both doing the doing. No one is being done. So that doesn’t work.”

Which is why they’re best friends. Which is why Cas should not be leveling him with his stare and make Dean shrink back against it. Which, goddammit, makes Dean's stomach do the stupid flip thing again.

He should never have started this conversation. But it galls at him. That Rowena had had the nerve to - and she isn’t even just a stranger that he met at the shop, no, she’s a regular at the same club they’re going to. She’s seen Dean with Benny. Hell, he’s noticed her red head in the audience of a public scene or two that Benny and he had done. So how the hell did she think it was a good idea to proposition to him and ask him whether he wanted to join her Megacoven? What is that fucking name anyway? Call it a harem if it is a harem, don’t waste time on making up names.

He fumes silently and so of course it takes a moment before he notices that both his friends are snickering at him. “What is it now?” he grumbles.

“Can’t let it go, huh?” Charlie grins.

“Maybe you should,” Cas says and leans towards him with a calculating expression.

“Maybe I should what?” It comes out defensive. Dean’s _not_ going to shrink back again, goddammit.  

“Let it go,” Cas replies. “Maybe you should try it out at least once.” He turns to Charlie. “And no offense, but I think Dean and I have seen each other naked often enough for our friendship to survive.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows, doubt clear on her face, but there is something else in her eyes, too, when she looks from one of them to the other before answering with a hesitant, “If you say so.”

“I say so,” Cas confirms. “Now, Dean, what do you say?” He raises an eyebrow at Dean.

“You’re crazy,” Dean shakes his head and keeps ignoring the way his stomach twinges.

The sentence doesn’t get him the reaction he hopes for. Instead, Cas tilts his head and observes him even closer. “Are you scared?” he asks.

“Of you?” Dean huffs a laugh that’s supposed to sound dismissive but it doesn’t come out quite right. He clears his throat again.

Cas’ squint turns into a smile. “No, Dean, of course not of me. You know that I’d never do anything that hurts you. It’s still okay to be scared.”

He doesn’t spell it out but of course Dean is already aware what Cas is insinuating. By the way his face has started to burn, he’s red enough by now that they all know it, too.

“Yep, I take it back,” Charlie nods decisively. “This is way too fun to shoot it down. Please go on and someone bring me popcorn.”

“Shut up, Red,” Dean growls but Charlie only grins wider. Because of course she does. It’s his own damn fault for having only toppy bastards as best friends.

“Dean,” Cas guides his attention back to him. His smile has fallen at Dean’s tense reaction but his eyebrow stays up in challenge.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean says and is aware that he is not managing to keep up the angry tone and instead starts whining, “would you do this?”

“Yes,” Cas answers without hesitation. “I have, in fact.”

“What?” Dean asks surprised. As far as he knows Cas has never shown any proclivity towards subbing whatsoever.

Cas’ smile is back then, fond now, like it’s sweet how naive Dean is. “You know me, Dean. I like to do my research hands on. How am I supposed to know what a scene feels like if I haven’t tried it out?”

That leaves Dean taken aback. “You have tried out _everything_ that you do to your subs?”

“Well, maybe not everything,” Cas allows. “But enough to get a good feeling for the impact on the receiving end.”

“Our Cas is a veritable method actor,” Charlie nods.

“It’s not an act,” Cas disagrees. “If it was, I’d have _acted_ as a much better sub than I actually was.”

“Oh, do tell us more,” Charlie chuckles.

“There isn’t that much to tell,” Cas shrugs. “I have no problem bearing pain but it doesn’t give me the high it gives others. And I have no interest in submitting to anyone's control, even when I trust them.” He looks back at Dean. “You have asked me that before. Why I come to the club in my work suit sometimes.”

Dean nods because he has indeed asked Cas that before and hasn’t gotten an answer beyond _I felt like it_.  

“Because it doesn’t matter. I’m a top, no matter how I dress. Leather or suit and tie or no clothes at all, I’m always me.”

It’s a simple explanation that Dean should have seen coming. But he can’t let it stand like that. “But isn’t there always some drama involved? I mean, there’s ritual and role play and everyone’s got a persona or two.”

“Yes,” Cas nods. “A lot of it is drama and a lot of it is play.” He touches his heart. “But there’s also something deep in here that wants satisfaction. And that goes beyond all of the decorum.”

“See, this is what I was saying,” Charlie chimes in. “No offense, Dean, but you’ve not got the same steel Cas has.”

“Hmpf,” Dean frowns but he sort of understands what Charlie means. “Just cause I like to make my subs happy doesn’t make me weak.”

“Dude!” Charlie pokes him. “Next you’re going to say subs are weak for subbing. You know better than that. Of course it’s not weak to care. Cas cares, too, and he isn’t big on the sadism, far as I can tell. In fact, you dole out a lot more physical pain in your play than Cas ever does. But that doesn’t change it.”

“I don’t get it,” Dean shakes his head. “I really don’t.”

Cas looks at him point blank. “I think what she’s trying to say is that you’d enjoy subbing if you had the guts to try it out.”

That makes Dean splutter. “I’m not subbing because I don’t like it, not because I’m scared.”

The raised eyebrow makes a reappearance. “You sure, Dean? It isn’t because trusting another human with your wellbeing and submitting to them in the trust that they will both help you fly and catch you when you fall scares you shitless?”

It’s worded cruder than Cas usually words anything, and it doesn’t fail to hit its target. There is a moment of awkward silence while Dean tries and fails to come up with something to refute this.

Cas’ voice when he goes on is softer. “I get it, Dean. I really do. You’ve cared for your brother all of your life. You know how to take care of people. It brings you genuine joy to make them happy. But that’s just it, it’s _their_ happiness. You’re taking nothing for yourself. And I believe, I honestly deeply believe that being on the other end, letting go of your defenses and just _being_ would bring _you_ happiness.”

“That sounds crazy, man,” Dean mumbles because what Cas is asking here is nothing less than to give everything up to - well, to him and to basically live for him, if only for a certain pre-discussed time. How can that be taking something for himself?

“I would love to be the person you trust enough to let down your guard, Dean. It would be a great honor.”

Cas looks so serious that the twinge in Dean’s stomach is back. That stupid twinge that has always accompanied his interactions with Cas, in all the years that they’ve been best friends, even though Dean had tried his best to get rid of it. They had met at a munch after all, and it had immediately been clear that their preferences didn’t match. So Dean had channeled the first impulse of attraction into a friendship instead and he hasn’t regretted it yet. In fact, none of their dates had ever stayed around as long as they have in each other’s lives.

“I don’t want to fuck us up, Cas,” Dean says honestly. Because the potential for horror is kind of high here.

“You won’t. Give me one night, Dean. One night to convince you that there’s something to this. You can safeword out any time you want. What’s the worst that can happen? That we’ll laugh about how awkward it was afterwards?”

That’s decidedly not the worst that can happen but Dean’s got no intention of stating that out loud.

“One night?” he asks back. “One night and you’ll drop this topic forever?”

“One night,” Cas nods.

“And we have a deal!” Charlie gives a round of fake applause.

And oh yeah, Dean had kind of forgotten that she was at the table with them. It still takes a while, though, to rip his eyes away from Cas’ and look back at her. “If you tell the other redhead, you’re dead, Red.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I won’t have to tell her. You two are coming to the club, aren’t you?”

“What?” Dean squawks.

“It would seem to be customary,” Cas says solemnly. “Especially since we’re playing together for the first time, so we should do it in known surroundings that have safety features.”

“Dude, Cas, you’re my best friend. You’re not going to axe-murder me.”

“That would be highly unlikely, seeing how I don’t own an axe,” Cas says drily. “But you don’t really know my style of playing. I don’t want you to feel unsafe.”

“Dude, what _do_ you do to your subs?” Dean asks somewhat dumbfounded.

“He plays mind-games, Dean. You should pay more attention during the public scenes.”

“Cas never takes part in those!” Dean protests.

“But he’s in the audience,” Charlie counters. “I find it quite worthwhile to watch where the light isn’t shining.”

Cas gives her a nod in acknowledgement of her observational skills. “I wouldn’t call them mind-games as such, not in any malevolent way. But yes, I want to get into my sub’s head and not just touch their skin.”

“What about into their heart?” Charlie challenges, and there is an undertone of worry there.

“Not for a while now,” Cas says. A steep line appears on his forehead, like he is unhappy about that. “But it is as it is.”

“Y’all are crazy,” Dean mutters again.

“But you’re still going to do this?”

“I’m going to blame it on you but apparently I’m crazy, too,” Dean sighs. “So, Saturday?”

“Saturday,” Cas nods. “It’s a date.”

 

Surprisingly, it’s that last sentence that keeps Dean up at night for the rest of the week.

_It’s a date._

He has his phone in hand to text Cas and ask him what exactly he meant at least once a day, but he chickens out every single time.

_It’s a date._

Well, it is a play-date of course and that is bad enough. Also, it is a date in terms of it is a specific date on the calendar. But is it also a _date_? Cause Cas is his best friend and - he stomps down on the butterflies in his stomach. He is nervous, that is all. He definitely doesn’t want this to be an actual date. Charlie has said it, it would never work between them. Because Dean’s romantic relationships are always catastrophes. And Cas might do the romantic thing but he’s picky. He won’t be picking Dean any time soon.

And that is not a good thought, so Dean diverts his attention and texts Cas after all.

_Dean @Cas: You still intent on going through with this?_

He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer.

_Cas @Dean: Chickening out already?_

“Asshole,” Dean mutters because he’s well aware that the challenge is intentional. The best way to get Dean to _not_ chicken out of something is to imply that he will.

_Dean @Cas: Any specific requests re: clothes etc.?_

This time it takes longer for the answer to come through. Like Cas had to think about it.

_Cas @Dean: I have no set expectations. Let’s talk on Saturday and see what might fit for both of us. Though - not a request, just an offer - if you want, wear something that might help get you in the right frame of mind. And if you have any toys that you want to bring, feel free._

Dean bites his lip. Because the text message conjured a picture in his mind and - when did he start taking this seriously? This is supposed to show that he’s _not_ a sub. Or a switch. Or whatever.

But there is the picture of Rhonda Hurley and her pink panties. There’s the way she had looked at him when she’d made him wear them. He can feel the blush spread all the way to his chest when he thinks about the bottom of his underwear drawer, where, well hidden, a three pack of boy panties lies unopened. He still doesn’t know what spirit had possessed him to make that impulse buy.

But.

He swallows heavily. Goddammit, he’s in so much trouble.

_Cas @Dean: Dean? You still there?_

_Dean @Cas: Yeah._

_Cas @Dean: You okay?_

He stares at the message. He has no idea what to answer to that. Is he okay?

_Cas @Dean: You know that you don’t have to do this, right? You can back out._

And yeah, Dean knows that. For all of their glee in riling him, his friends are actually good people. They wouldn’t hold it against him. The problem is - he sighs. The problem is that he’s probably going to be anxious enough to want to vomit most of Saturday but he doesn’t actually want to back out.

_Dean @Cas: Go easy on me, Cas, okay?_

_Cas @Dean: I would never do anything you don’t want._

_Dean @Cas: Yeah, I know. I trust you._

And he does. He wouldn’t contemplate this at all if he didn’t.

_Cas @Dean: I’m glad. See you on Saturday? At around 7?_

_Dean @Cas: Yeah. See you then._

He stares at the text messages for a good ten more minutes before he finally manages to close out of the message window. Now all he has to do is explain to Benny why he can’t play with him on Saturday. Oh joy.

 

Benny is surprisingly understanding. And by _understanding_ Dean means Benny laughs his ass off when Dean tells him what’s going on. As if that isn’t bad enough, Benny ends the phone call with, “Hope it goes well, Chief. You deserve to find happiness.”

It echoes Cas’ statements, and it makes Dean about ten times more nervous than he already was. Because this was supposed to be a stupid challenge and now suddenly it’s something that apparently his happiness rides on. And Dean’s not even positive that it’s not true.

Which, argh. He wishes he had at least managed to ask Cas about the whole _date_ thing. As it is, he anxiously searches his way through his closet, changes his opinion on what to wear three times, then changes it again, just to be completely sure that he’s made the biggest mistake ever in both his attire and in doing this when he finally makes it to the club. The only upside is that while he might be a nervous wreck, at least he made it to his destination without any actual wreckage.

He takes it as a win, though it does nothing to build up his confidence. Everything about this feels strange and he fidgets from the moment he enters the club. It’s the usual Saturday crowd, which means he knows most of everyone and people call out to him to say Hi every few steps. Dean nods at them but doesn’t stop to talk to anyone. He doesn’t want to be asked why he is in civvies today instead of his customary leather. Well, in civvies as far as they’re concerned. He’s wearing his best pair of jeans and a tight black t-shirt that makes him blend into the crowd. But underneath the ensemble… Dean can feel his face heating and quickly averts his thoughts before he can give himself a panic attack.

He scans the crowd. It’s not that thick yet, though there are plenty of people socialising in small groups, talking and nursing their soft drinks, waiting for the night to really begin. Most of them will move on towards the play area over the course of the next few hours.

Dean spots Rowena holding court with her coven, her red hair outshining everyone around her, no matter that she’s the smallest person in the group. She winks at him when he passes her by, and he tips his imaginary hat but keeps walking. He shakes his head when he catches himself thinking about what the hell she is doing to have a dozen people so enthralled with her that they adore her every movement. Rowena is the least of his worries tonight.

He turns towards the bar and spots a familiar tuft of dark hair. He’s expected it, of course he has, but it still punches the air out of him.

For a moment, his steps falter.

This is it. Last chance to flee.

But then Cas turns around and he’s got two sodas in hand, and his face turns from worried to shining when he spots Dean. And goddammit if Dean’s heart doesn’t melt a little bit at the sight.

“You came,” Cas says when he stops in front of Dean and it sounds a little breathless. And that’s good. That means that maybe Dean isn’t the only one who is freaking out a bit.

“Told you I would,” Dean grumbles but he accepts the bottle from Cas with a grateful nod. Though whiskey would calm his nerves better.

“Dean!”

And oops, he hadn’t planned to say that out loud. “I know, I know,” he hurries to smooth over his faux-pas. “I’m completely sober, scout’s honor.”

But Cas’ worried frown is already back. He scrutinizes Dean silently.

“I’m good, Cas, I swear.” To his own surprise, it isn’t even much of a lie. Even though, “Just nervous is all. Want to find a table and talk?”

Cas searches his face for a moment longer, until he’s apparently satisfied with what he finds because he nods and turns around, leaving Dean to trail him towards the quieter seating area, where negotiations usually take place.

They have to pass the bottleneck in front of the bar, though, so when the crowd gets denser, Cas reaches back and takes Dean’s hand before weaving his way through the mass of bodies.

It’s weird.

It’s nothing that Dean wouldn’t do - assuming a protective position the moment he’s entered negotiations with someone - but Dean’s used to being the one leading not the one being led.

Still, this is Cas. He knows Cas outside of this setting. Hell, he’s both showered next to him at the gym and fallen asleep on his shoulder when they watched Star Wars until neither of them could keep their eyes open anymore.

So this shouldn’t be this weird. It shouldn’t send sparks up his arm and right into his heart. It shouldn’t make his brain feel as confused as it does.

It should also not be quite as hard to let go of Cas’ hand once they’ve made it to a free table.

As so often, they linger a moment too long, their eyes locked, before Cas squeezes his hand and then lets go to bid him sit down.

“So I take it you haven’t changed your mind?” Cas asks.

Dean takes a sip of his soda to work some moisture back into his mouth before he answers. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

Cas frowns. “That you’re here does not mean I should assume to know what you want.”

And yeah, Cas has got a point and Dean’s an asshole for already being defensive. “I’m not - I’m just not any good at this,” he mumbles. All of this was such a stupid idea.

“Dean,” Cas leans forward and takes Dean’s hand back in his. “I’m going to do my very best to help, but you have to give yourself a chance, too. I know that it’s new and that new things frighten you. But we’ll go slow. Okay?”

Dean looks at their joined hands, Cas’ warmth seeping into him quietly and steadily. He takes an intentional deep breath in the hope of centering himself at least a little and nods. It’s just one night. He can do this. “Nothing public, okay? We’ll get a room?” Because having Cas see him vulnerable is one thing but Dean doesn’t think he will be able to go through with this when half the club is watching.

“Of course,” Cas nods. “What else?”

“Umm,” and Dean has thought about this, but somehow he is looking at Cas and his mind is drawing a complete blank.

“It’s okay,” Cas soothes when he notices. “I don’t think we need to go through the complete list of our likes and dislikes tonight. If you give me a few ideas about what you would like to try and tell me what your hard limits and triggers are, I think that’s good enough for today.”

“I, umm,” and yeah, Dean’s brain is still mostly static, “no permanent scarring?”

To his credit, Cas doesn’t start laughing, though there is a small smile playing around his lips when he nods. “Agreed. What about marking you up?”

“Umm.. Marking me up how?” It comes out as a mixture between a squawk and a husky whisper.

Which in turn makes Cas’ gaze so intense that Dean almost feels it physically. “Any way you like… With my mouth… With my fingers… With an implement of your choice… The possibilities are endless.”

“No belts.” It comes out too fast, so Dean adds, “Cause of - my Dad, you know…” He trails off embarrassed. That’s a fascinating pattern that the linoleum on the floor has.

“Dean.”

Cas’ fingers cup Dean’s face determinedly to make him look back up. Dean fights it for all of ten seconds before sullenly following Cas’ lead. He really doesn’t want to see the pity in Cas’ eyes.

Only, there isn’t any pity there. Cas’ eyes have the same intensity that they always have. “I’m glad that you trust me but you don’t actually have to give me a reason. You tell me something is off the table, it’s off the table. Also, what your Dad did to you was wrong and I’m sorry that it happened. You’re a good person, Dean. You have no fault in it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to answer to that, all he knows is that Cas’ intensity is quickly becoming too much. So he does his best to duck out of Cas’ touch. After a moment, Cas lets him.

They sit in silence for a beat before Cas picks up their conversation where they’d left off, his tone going back to business. “So, can I mark you up with my mouth and fingers?”

Dean is grateful for the out and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Where people can see?”

And that’s a completely different question.

“You wanna mark me yours, Cas? Want people to know?” Dean attempts a half-hearted joke.

Only, the way Cas blushes Dean isn’t sure it’s actually a joke. And that throws him for a loop.

“Umm, yeah,” he stutters. “I guess that’s okay, too. Just, you know, don’t strangle me or something. I’m meeting up with Sammy tomorrow and I’d have a hard time explaining fingerprints around my throat.” He shuts up abruptly when he notices where that sentence went. Dean’s really got to stop doing that. He _knows_ that that isn’t a type of play Cas is into.

“Breath play is a hard limit for me,” Cas confirms evenly, as if Dean’s nervous babbling is a normal occurrence.

“What other limits do you have?” Dean asks, suddenly curious when he notices that they’ve never actually talked about it.

“Anything that causes permanent damage. Also, I’m not a big fan of blood or high impact play, though I will make exceptions when I know someone very well. And I have no interest in anything scat-related.” Cas smiles a small mischievous smile. “Though I do enjoy the control aspect of some of the water sports activities.”

Dean can’t help it, he has to swallow and work spit into his mouth again. “Control aspect, huh?” he asks weakly.

“Yes,” Cas nods. “But you knew that. That I like getting into someone’s head.”

“To mess with them?” Dean asks.

“No,” Cas shakes his head. “I mean, a little. But it’s more than that.”

“It is?” Dean asks and hates that his voice sounds smaller than he is used to.

“Dean,” Cas looks at him with a frown. “When you whip Benny do you do it because you like hurting him?”

And that’s more familiar territory. “Nah, I'm not a sadist. The pain is just a tool. To make him drift. Also, he gets this proud little smile after.” The memory makes Dean smile, too.

Cas nods. “See. That’s what I mean. I want that for you, Dean. And I think I can give it to you.”

“Cas, I’m not…”

“Not via whipping you! That’s not what I meant,” Cas immediately interjects. “As I said, high impact play is not really my thing in the first place, and to be honest, I don’t think it’s going to get you anywhere but into a bad headspace. At least at the point where you are at right now.”

“You’ve thought about this.” It comes out not so much as an accusation and more as disbelief.

“Of course.” Cas squeezes his hand again. “Dean, you’re very important to me. I would never have proposed this if I didn’t think I had something positive that I could give you.”

“Then, let’s just, you know, do what you were thinking about?” Dean says because honestly, that sounds like a splendid plan. Seeing how Dean’s supposed to give up control anyway, and how his own brain is still mostly flickering static.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Cas asks. “Anything that triggers you?”

“Well, I…” Dean bites his lip before saying very quickly, “I’m not sure about humiliation. I mean, not beyond wearing a gag or something.”

“Okay,” Cas smiles. “I wasn’t planning on that anyway. And I think gags will be a non-issue. I want to hear you.”

And Dean has no idea what to say to that. Or what to think about it. “Dude…”

“What about sex?”

“What?” Dean stutters.

“Is sex on the list of activities that you’re good with or not?” Cas repeats patiently.

And how the hell does Cas sound so calm about this while he has managed to break Dean’s brain before they’ve even got started? Because now Dean’s imagining not only naked Cas but touching naked Cas and having his mouth on naked Cas and having Cas’ mouth on him and… “Yes,” Dean answers. “Yes, sex is fine.”

“You sure?” Cas asks back.

“Yeah,” Dean nods.

“You know that - that it might be different for you than when you’re topping.”

“‘s okay. I have bottomed before.”

“That’s not actually what I meant. I meant that your feelings might be different.”

“My feelings?” Dean hopes that that didn’t sound as squeaky out loud as it sounded in his head.

“Yes, Dean, feelings. You might have those,” Cas deadpans.  

“I… It’s okay. I can deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Dean answers and this time it sounds mostly like he means it.

“Okay,” Cas nods. “My safeword is Honeybee. Though I’d like us to use the traffic light system in addition to having a complete stop word. Just in case you need to slow the scene down.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees. “Also: Impala.” This is not new information for either of them.

Still, it makes Cas chuckle. “It’s surprising that you manage _not_ to talk about Baby in a scene otherwise.”

And for all his nervousness, that makes Dean chuckle, too. “Yeah, well, I’m going to give you my full attention, to the point where Baby might not even be on my mind.”

Cas smirks. “Well then, I’ll try to prove myself worthy of the honor. What do you say, want to go check out the play area?”

Immediately, all of Dean’s nerves are back. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

 

Dean has passed the entrance to the play area so many times, nothing about it should be able to make him anxious anymore. But today, everything is different. So much so, that he’s actually glad when Cas takes his hand again, even though Dean knows his palm is sweaty and will give away just how much anxiety he feels. It will also give away to everyone who sees them that they’re playing together tonight and what exactly their dynamic is. Because Cas is most definitely still leading.

Fortunately, he does it with the quiet self-assurance that is his modus operandi outside of the club as well. That’s good because Dean knows Cas like this, and he has no problem following him when Cas insists on trying out a new deli and “no, Dean, not this one, the one two blocks over!” So Dean tries his best to ignore the fact that everyone who knows them is looking at them questioningly, and instead presses his shoulder into Cas’ and stays close.

Instead of guiding him directly towards the back part of the club where the play rooms are, Cas stays in the public area. It’s relatively quiet still, though there are a few people occupying the small stages already. Cas stops next to a bondage scene, the participants obviously skilled at shibari, as the top weaves a precise net around his sub’s body. A net that Dean guesses will provide enough anchorage to eventually lift her off the ground.

He knows that Charlie is interested in shibari but he has no real idea whether it holds any fascination for Cas. Dean has always preferred scenes that need less patience, even though he is sufficiently skilled with ropes that he doesn’t have to rely on padded restraints if he feels like switching things up.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Cas turns around to him. “Allow yourself to watch and see the beauty instead of puzzling out what you could do or couldn’t do with the material.”

It’s a soft reprimand but somehow it still makes Dean blush. Fortunately, it’s too dark in the club for Cas to see it. “Sorry,” Dean apologizes.

“Don’t be. I hadn’t given you direction before. I do now. So, watch.”

It’s pretty clear that Cas doesn’t expect a verbal answer because he turns back towards the stage. He doesn’t check whether Dean is following his instruction, either. Which, okay. Dean has promised to try this, so he will.

He looks at the stage again where the woman’s torso is now wrapped completely while her partner is starting in on her legs. He works precisely, methodically, but Dean stops following the movement of his hands and instead looks at the woman.

Where Dean himself has been fidgeting all night, she is still. There isn’t even the slightest bit of impatience on her face. Instead, she glows with a soft inner light, like she is centered in herself and completely content to be where she is. It makes her features more beautiful than Dean guesses she would be if he met her outside on the street. There is a calmth and quiet strength in the scene that Dean will readily admit his own scenes rarely reach. Suddenly, that seems like a shame. Like he’s missing out on something that he wants.

He becomes aware with a start that blue eyes are boring into him. Cas is watching him. Immediately, the embarrassment is back and he averts his eyes.

“No, don’t.” Cas squeezes his hand for emphasis but his voice isn’t harsh. “You don’t have to hide from me, Dean. I’ll always accept you. And I like what I see, too.”

He doesn’t explain whether he means that he likes the scene they’re watching or that he likes what he sees on Dean’s face, and as usual, Dean is too chickenshit to ask. He figures it’s safer to nod and accept the statement without any questions.

“Do you think this would be something you’re interested in?” Cas nods towards the couple on stage. “Would it help you to let go if it was physically impossible for you to try and take over?”

“I - don’t know,” Dean says honestly. Though he thinks that Cas is probably not too far from the truth. Dean is used to calling the shots after all. And he automatically plans ahead and anticipates what’s going to happen next. Even outside of scene space.

“Well, I would like to tie you up tonight. Nothing quite as fancy as these two are doing but enough to immobilize you. Would you trust me with that?” Cas asks.

And yeah, Dean has seen that coming, what with Cas stopping here and making Dean watch the scene, but it’s still something else to hear it out loud. “You’re the boss of me tonight, right? So...” Dean shrugs.

Cas watches him intently for a moment as if he’s still trying to puzzle him out. “That doesn’t work for me, Dean. Let me ask my question again: Will you let me tie you up tonight?”

Cas sounds so earnest that Dean’s instincts are to deflect. But he also sees the stubborn set of Cas’ jaw and he knows that the result will just be that Cas asks again. Dean’s eyes stray back to the couple on stage. He looks at the relaxed features of the woman, who by all means should be concerned about the position she’s stretched into and about not falling over. Or at least should be bored to death because she’s been up there for a good fifteen minutes already and things are moving slow. But it’s obvious that she isn’t, either.

Dean sighs and looks back at Cas. “Yeah, okay. I can’t promise you I’ll do as well as she does. But yeah, I’ll let you tie me up.”

“Thank you.” Cas smiles like he’s happy about the answer and somehow, the warmth of the smile resonates in Dean, because for the first time today the cold knot of anxiety lets go and instead warmth fills him.

So instead of giving a snarky reply, Dean smiles back and for a few heartbeats they’re staring at each other, and they’re doing that often enough but it feels different this time. Like the air between them is charged with electricity. Dean looks at Cas’ lips, then back up at his eyes. For a second, Cas looks hesitant, like he’s contemplating the offer, but he wipes the look off his face and smiles again.

“Come on.” Cas tugs at his hand and Dean follows him willingly, while pretending that his heart isn’t racing and that of course he’s not disappointed that Cas didn’t kiss him.

 

This time, Cas turns towards the private rooms. He has a short discussion with the staff member on duty, but both Cas and Dean are well-known at the club and it looks like Cas booked the room he wanted in advance, so the guard waves them through with minimal fuss.

It’s one of the more nondescript rooms. It has a bed and a table and a lot of attachment points for restraints. There’s a box on the table that Dean assumes holds Cas’ private toy collection. The room is clean and the atmosphere is that of a motel much more than that of a dungeon. Dean is pretty sure that Cas chose it specifically because of their discussion about theatrics.

Cas gives him the time to look around, watching him quietly until Dean turns back to him. His nerves are skyrocketing again.

“What’s your safeword, Dean?”

“Impala.”

“Are you calling it out?”

“No,” Dean shakes his head and he even manages something that approaches a fleeting smile. Goddammit, this is just Cas. He’s known him for forever and he trusts him with his life. There is no reason to be this anxious.

“Okay,” Cas nods. “In that case, I’d like you to strip out of your jeans and t-shirt, please. You can leave your underwear on. When you’re done, go kneel at the foot-end of the bed.”

Cas turns around and away after the words, leaving Dean to the task he’s set while he opens the box on the table and starts rummaging through it. Dean’s pretty sure that it’s Cas’ attempt to give him some privacy to get his nerves under control but Dean’s also pretty sure that that’s not going to work. Yeah, it’s nerve-wrecking to have Cas watch him, more so than it should be, but doing this on his own makes him want to vomit as well.

It’s an easy enough task. Dean has given it to someone a thousand times over. A ritual to begin a scene and get into the right headspace. Not that he has any idea how to get into the right headspace. If you had asked him to speculate before this whole ordeal, he’d have said if anything, he’s going to be a bratty sub, always challenging his play partner. But now the serene features of the nameless woman in her shibari ties is stuck in his mind and if he’s honest with himself, then challenging Cas is the last thing that’s on his mind.

In fact, he’s pretty sure that the only way he's going to get through this is by leaning on Cas. By trusting him. But if he does that - the pesky twinge in his stomach comes back. _Feelings, Dean. You might have those._

“Cas?” Dean asks hesitantly. He hasn’t even stripped out of his shirt yet, yet he feels like a lost puppy.

Cas turns immediately, eyes narrowing, but not in anger. It looks more like worry. “What is it, Dean?”

“You’re gonna be there, right? If I do this? You’re not gonna leave me in the middle? And you’re also gonna be there after?” It sounds needy and clingy but dammit, Cas knows that Dean’s got issues and he still proposed this.

“Of course, Dean.” Cas comes a step closer.

“And if I’m - if I’m no good at this, you’ll still be my friend?”

“Dean.” Cas closes the last of the distance between them to take both of Dean’s hands in his. “Take a moment. Take deep breaths. Calm down.” Cas takes a few exaggerated breaths, prompting Dean to copy him. “Good. Now listen inside yourself. No matter what else, I’ll always be your friend. I’ll always be there for you. I know that in your heart you know that.”

The words are slow to sink in, Dean’s panic still close to the surface. But Cas keeps holding his hands and his eyes aren’t steely right now, they’re soft, and Dean’s got no idea what kind of love it is, but suddenly he’s sure that it is _some_ kind. And that Cas actually means that. That no matter what happens today or tomorrow or the rest of their lives, they’ve got a spot in each other’s hearts.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean nods. “Okay. I know that. And - same. Obviously.”

Which is definitely not the best sentence Dean has ever uttered, but it still makes Cas break out into a beautiful smile. “Do you want me to stay here and watch?” he asks.

“I - uhh, yeah. If you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.” Cas squeezes his hands again and then lets go so that Dean is free to move.

Undressing with Cas watching poses a whole new set of challenges. But still, it feels better than before. He feels more centered. So he takes a deep breath and strips out of his shirt. It’s a perfunctory movement, he’s not got it in him to make this a striptease right now.

Though the fact that this isn’t acted, that there aren’t any dramatic effects, makes him feel all the more vulnerable. Like he’s being stripped naked in more than a physical way. No, like he’s stripping himself bare, he’s not being made. Like he wants to show Castiel who he is.

It feels honest and raw and he fully expects it when his fingers fumble on his jeans buttons twice. He’s been naked around Cas before and that was fine but he’s not going to be naked now, he is going to be _bare_. He’s going to willingly lay bare a part of himself that he has never shown anyone before.

It takes another deep breath and a mental kick at himself to let his pants drop. He doesn’t even step out of them, he just stands there, arms hanging, eyes averted and listens to Cas’ sharp intake of breath when he realizes what he’s seeing.

“Dean!” It sounds quiet and breathless.

Dean’s hands ball into fists at his side in an attempt to keep himself from shielding his body from view. He wanted Cas to see him. So there. Now Cas is seeing him.

“Dean, can I…?” Cas hovers at the edge of Dean’s field of vision, fingers reaching but not actually touching.

Dean keeps his eyes low, doesn’t think he can bear whatever emotion there is on Cas’ face. But he nods. Yeah, Cas can touch him.

It’s a feather light touch, just fingers brushing the lacey material at the side of his hip.

They aren’t Rhonda Hurley’s panties. They aren’t pink. They are a soft mossy green that goes well with his skin tone. Also, even though there’s lace and shiny fabric, they hug him in all the right places because they’re made for a guy. He’s not sure whether that makes it better or worse. Because there’s no way he can play this off as a joke. _Haha, found this old pair of panties from an ex, thought it would be funny to wear them for this insane challenge._ No, it’s absolutely clear that these are his own.

“Oh Dean, they look gorgeous,” Cas whispers. “ _You_ look gorgeous.”

“I’m not...” Dean automatically starts to protest but has no chance to finish the sentence because Cas’ hand tightens on his waist, to the point where there’s a sting to his grip.

“You _are_ gorgeous. Inside and out. And today, I get to tell you and you don’t get to protest.”

“I…” But Dean swallows the rest of the sentence when he feels Cas’ gaze on him. He dares to look up for a moment, and yeah, Cas is wearing his determined face. “Uhh, okay,” Dean mumbles.

“Good,” Cas nods satisfied, voice and grip instantly soft again. “I get too little chance to tell you. Do you even know that? Do you have any idea how often I want to tell you that you’re beautiful?”

He lets his hands roam over Dean’s body, over his chest and his arms.

“You are so beautiful, Dean. And I know that you don’t like hearing it. I know that it's been used against you. But sometimes you look at me and you take my breath away. And I wish…” Cas stops and sighs, though he continues his soft ministrations, moving behind Dean to stroke over his back. “I know it’s not my place. I know it’s your call. But sometimes I can’t help but wish that you’d find a way to let that side of you shine instead of hiding it.”

It’s no coincidence, Dean thinks, that Cas’ hands end up on Dean’s hips again, following the swirls and patterns of the lace for a moment before resting in place.

“Showed you today.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

“You did,” Cas agrees. “And I'm grateful. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

Dean grumbles something that he isn’t even sure himself what it’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t resist when Cas’ arms circle around his waist to draw him into a hug. It feels like starched shirt and dress pants but it smells like Cas.

Still, Dean jumps when Cas presses a kiss into his shoulder.

Immediately, the arms encircling him loosen. “Go get on the bed, Dean.” Cas softly pushes him forward.

It’s eerie, how Dean instantly misses his touch. Still, he remembers Cas’ original instruction, so he climbs up on the bed to kneel at the foot-end. He even tries for good posture.

Cas doesn’t follow him, he goes back to the box on the table. Dean resists the urge to turn and figure out what he’s doing. Suspense is a part of the game after all. Instead, he takes the moment to center himself. It works better when he knows what he’s doing. Right now, he’s out of his depth. Also, he still feels where Cas’ lips touched his shoulder. He shudders. He’s told Cas it’s okay to mark him up with his mouth. So if Dean already reacts like this to this small stimulation…

“Dean? You still with me?”

Dean flinches as the voice breaks his thoughts.

The bed dips and Cas sits down in front of him. He’s got a coil of ropes and a pair of scissors in his hands.

“Yeah. Just thinking. Sorry.”

Cas shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “I’m sorely tempted to make _no apologies_ a rule for you.”

“Oh… Umm, sorry?” Dean blushes.

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m not doing it. We haven’t talked about acceptable punishments and I don’t think you’d actually be able to keep to the rule, so I fear punishment would be inevitable.” Cas puts a hand on Dean’s face, caressing it. It takes the sting out of the words. “I want you to try, though. Try not to apologize for every insecurity and try not to protest when I tell you that you’re good. I will not punish you if you don’t manage, but I might assert my request with the help of a gag. Are these acceptable terms?”

“I, umm, yeah, I guess,” Dean mumbles while he tries to make sense of the conflicting signals his body sends him. There is Cas’ soft touch but also his stern voice and Dean’s not sure whether he wants to flinch away from the thought of being gagged or whether it arouses him a little how effortlessly Cas proposes to take control of him.

Cas obviously notices his internal conflict because he gives Dean a minute to fidget where he does nothing but softly caress Dean’s skin before he picks up the rope from the bed. “I would like to tie your arms now if you’re still okay with it. It will be a comfortable position and I have emergency scissors right here in case you need out of the restraints fast.”

It’s not exactly a surprise that this was coming, but still, Dean eyes the ropes a little hesitantly. They’re good quality ropes and he trusts that Cas knows what he’s doing. But yeah, it takes longer to get out of ropes than just unhooking a restraint. And he’s got no real idea what else Cas has planned for tonight.

“Give me your color, Dean,” Cas asks and the way he says it Dean’s pretty sure he knows that it’s not an enthusiastic green.

“I-,” he swallows the _I’m sorry_ and redirects the sentence. “I have a few questions?”

“Ask,” Cas encourages him.

“What, umm, what are you going to do to me after you’ve tied my arms?”

Cas nods in acknowledgement. “I’m going to ask you to lay down and feel your body while I touch it. I think you rarely take the time to concentrate on yourself and the way your body reacts to different sensations. We have the time today.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” And that comes out more demanding than Dean had planned.

“Dean,” Cas shakes his head, “this is not about what I want. This is about what you need.”

And that doesn’t work for Dean. At all. “Red. Like, temporary red and I don’t want the scene to end, but red.”

Cas’ eyes turn wide and he stops touching Dean and brings a few inches between them. “Dean? I don’t understand.”

“Bullshit. You understand just fine.” He pokes an accusing finger at Cas’. “You’re the one who said you Dom because you get your highs out of this. So you don’t get to go back on that now. Either this,” he points between himself and Cas, “is for the both of us or it’s not happening.”

For a moment, it’s so silent that all that can be heard is the low echo of music from the main part of the club.

Then Dean has had enough of this game of chicken and decides to, “Oh, fuck it.”

He leans forward and plants his lips on Cas’. No more than that, a dry touch of skin on skin, though he lets it linger for a few heartbeats. Then he retreats while Cas stares at him wide-eyed and frozen.

“You take for yourself what you need from me. Understand, Cas?” And that’s probably not the way a sub should phrase a request but goddammit, he’s called red so they’re just Cas and Dean right now. And this is how Dean says it when he likes someone.

“Dean, I… I can’t.”

For the first time, Dean takes in Cas’ posture. He has retreated back to the head-end of the bed, as far from Dean as he can and still be seated, and the look on his face is - not good.

Dean’s bristly attitude falls in on itself. “Cas, what’s wrong?” he asks worriedly. Because he thinks he read this right, thinks he knows Cas well enough to know - but obviously not. Dean’s got the urge to get closer, to take Cas’ hand again, but Cas has brought too much distance between them for it to be possible without following him. And Dean’s not going to do that. Not while they have a stop in their play.

“Dean, I…” Cas nervously rubs a hand through his hair and his eyes seem to focus on anything but Dean. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“This?” Dean asks confused. “Cas, you gotta start at the beginning, you’re not making any sense. What wasn’t supposed to happen?”

Cas looks about ready to jump off the bed, so Dean leans forward to catch his hand after all. It’s a stretch but he catches his fingers.

“Come on, Cas. You’re the one who gives me regular lectures about good communication. So talk to me.”

“Dean, I…” When Cas’ eyes finally focus on Dean, he looks desperate. “Dean, I’m your friend and I will always be your friend. I meant that. But if I…,” He takes a deep breath and when he starts again his voice sounds less rushed. More like he’s stating a truth that he’s certain of. “Dean, if I start taking for myself, I will not want to stop. That’s why this has to be about you. That’s why this is the only way this will work. So you can’t just kiss me. I…”

“You do nothing but relationships,” Dean echoes Charlie’s words.

For a long moment, Cas doesn’t answer. Then, he nods and whispers, “Yes. And you don’t do them. And I can’t… Dean, if we kiss, if we are intimate beyond the scene - I can’t keep my feelings out of it.”

“Then don’t.”

“What?” Cas asks flabbergasted.

“Then don’t,” Dean repeats. “Bring your feelings and I’ll bring mine. You told me that was going to happen anyway, right?”

And that seems to leave Cas speechless because his mouth opens and closes a few times without any sound coming out before he says, “I don’t understand.”

But Dean does. Or he doesn’t but it doesn’t matter because he knows how to make this work. “Kiss me, Cas. Kiss me and mean it. I mean it, too.”

“You - you mean it?”

“Since the first time we met.” Dean huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Gosh, we should probably have talked about this earlier.”

“You think?” Cas snorts and because the whole situation is just absurd, they both start to chuckle. Cas is the first to get serious again. “Do you really mean that, Dean? Would you be - would you be willing to try this for real? A relationship, I mean?”

That sobers Dean up, too. “I can’t promise you that I’m going to be a good sub for you. I mean I’m willing to tr-,” he breaks off because _willing to try_ is not actually what he wants to say. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Cas. You push me to acknowledge the shit that I’d rather keep buried.”

“I know,” Cas says and it sounds guilty.

“Hey, don’t. I’m not finished yet. You push me but you also always see it through. I tell you something about me that I’m ashamed of, you tell me that it’s okay. That _I’m_ okay.” Dean gestures at the lace that’s the only piece of fabric covering him right now as the most current example. “Makes me want to share, Cas. Makes me want to show you all of me. Even without being prompted.”

The confession melts Cas’ gaze into something soft and sweet. He turns his hand where Dean had grasped it so that he’s able to weave their fingers together. “I - don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything. Just answer me this: If we start the scene up again, will you take what’s yours during play?”

“I - yes, as long as I have your permission for it.”

That makes Dean smile. “You have my enthusiastic consent. And you will kiss me when you feel like kissing me?”

“Yes,” Cas nods fervently.

“Well then. There you go. I’m green again. Tie me up at your leisure.”

He’s met with an unbelieving stare and then with Cas tackling him.

Dean can’t help it, he laughs as they both topple over, so when their lips meet again, it’s breathless and the laugh is spilling over into the kiss.

It’s a thousand percent better this time because Cas is most definitely kissing back. In fact, Dean might be a tiny bit lightheaded and swooning when they part.

There’s something alight in Cas’ eyes, something that’s new and bright, and it makes Dean happy at the same time that it’s bordering on too much. So instead of questioning it, he grabs the coil of rope and puts it in Cas’ hands.

“You sure?” Cas asks and it sounds a little hoarse and Dean loves that Cas’ voice is affected already just from kissing.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Want to try this out.”

“Okay,” Cas nods. “Arms in front of you. Hold your elbows with your hands.”

It’s a simple position, no strain involved whatsoever, and it allows Dean to watch as Cas wraps the rope around his arms. Around and around, in neat loops, with a perfect line of knots. With each new loop Cas checks that the rope isn’t too tight, and that the knots end up on top of his arms where their pressure will leave marks once Dean starts struggling, but where they won’t actually hurt.

The dark rope provides a stark contrast to his skin, and Cas looks at the finished tie with a satisfied expression before tilting his head and puzzling over something.

“You thinking about how the rest of me would look like in your ropes?” Dean smirks.

Cas looks up at him, expression somewhere between coy and devious. “I am, indeed. And about whether that is a sight that I would want to keep all to myself or whether I’d want to show everyone how absolutely stunning you are.”

A shiver runs down Dean’s spine at the words. He’s not as against it as he’d thought he would be. “They all know me as a Dom, they’re going to laugh their asses off.”

“No, they won’t,” Cas shakes his head. “They’ll be too busy staring at your beauty to care whether you’re a switch or not. The problem is…” Cas breaks off.

“The problem is what?” Dean nudges.

“The problem is, I don’t think I want to share.”

“You want to be exclusive?” Dean blinks. It’s not a discussion they should be having right now and he knows it, but still, it catches him by surprise so he states it out loud.

“I - we’d need to talk about it.” Cas blushes. “I’m sorry I brought this up. I shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yeah?”

“No apologizing. Also, we can talk about you showing me off as long as you keep that attitude about not sharing me. I ain’t ready to sub for anyone else anytime soon.” He can feel his smile turn soft at Cas‘ astonished expression. “‘S just you, Cas.”

“Just me?” Cas asks like he's heard the words but like their meaning hasn't managed to sink in.

“Yes,” Dean confirms. “And for the record, you’re the only one I have, y’know, _romantic feelings_ for, too.”

With the way Cas’ eyes turn impossibly wider, Dean thinks he himself might not even be the one who is the most surprised to hear these words out of his mouth. So of course he has to deflect.

“Now would you do something about it already? You got me all trussed up and willing here, man.” Dean waves his bound arms in an uncoordinated movement to emphasize his point.

It's enough to get Cas moving but not in the way Dean wants. “No.” Cas puts a hand on Dean to still him. “You don't get to turn the tables on me.”

Dean would lay a dramatic hand over his heart if he could. “Wasn't trying to, scout’s honor.”

Cas raises an eyebrow at him. “Yes, my brother enjoys swearing on them, too.”

That makes Dean laugh. “Dude, I don't want to know what your brother did in the boy scouts. TMI.”

“Gabriel never joined the boy scouts. The preposition ‘in' is probably still accurate,” Cas deadpans. “But be that as it might, I know how it looks like when someone tries to turn the tables and I tell you right now it will not happen.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “People turn the tables on you a lot?”

“No, they don’t,” Cas shakes his head. “But I did. When I tried subbing and got bored. Are you bored, Dean?” His voice drops half an octave for the question and it would be menacing if it wasn't also absolutely hot.

Dean shivers but he keeps his smirk. “Alright, you got my attention. Whatcha gonna do to keep it?”

“Sassy, huh?” Cas’ grip wanders from his side into Dean’s hair, where it tightens, leaving Dean no choice but to follow Cas’ movement, leaning into Cas’ space when he tugs. “Nerves gone?”

And that is fucking weird and Dean hadn't even noticed but, “Huh. Yeah. I guess they are.”

“Good!” Cas nods satisfied and then crushes them together in a kiss, almost toppling Dean over because Dean's not used to not having his arms available to steady himself. It's Cas’ grip in his hair that keeps him upright, the pain an acute counterpoint to the pressure of Cas’ lips.

Dean isn't even sure whether Cas asks for it or whether he just opens his mouth to gasp but suddenly Cas’ tongue is invading and Dean can't find it in himself to fight the intrusion. It feels too good to finally be making out with Cas. So he lets Cas roam to his heart’s content.

And Cas does, pressing himself into Dean while keeping a tight grip on his hair, making sure that Dean stays exactly where he wants him. It’s easier to yield than Dean imagined it would be. It's a bit weird, not having the use of his hands and he's already getting a little disgruntled that he can't run his fingers through Cas’ hair or feel his strong thighs under his hands, but Cas makes good on his promise of keeping his attention by letting his own hand find interesting places. He skirts the edge of causing pain with everything he does, pinching Dean's nipple, scratching nails down his back, gripping Dean’s buttocks tightly.

Then, finally, he tangles his fingers into the elastic band of the panties. That's where he stops. He keeps his hand in place but takes the heat out of their kiss, slowly but surely retreating. Dean whimpers at the loss and he doesn't even care about how undignified he sounds.

Cas smiles and soothes him for a moment by petting his hair, before he says. “Dean, I had other plans for tonight, and I did not actually plan on -” He clears his throat. “But now I would love to - Dean, would you let me take you apart in pleasure?”

“If that means will I have sex with you, dude, yes!” In fact, Dean wriggles a little to make sure that the way his body is totally into this idea cannot be overlooked. “Enthusiastic yes.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Dean,” Cas smiles but the hesitance doesn’t leave his eyes. “But I was asking more than that.”

And Dean might be new to subbing but he's not new to the scene. “I did not actually expect you to untie me, if that’s the other part of the question.”

“It is and it isn’t.” Cas gives Dean’s hair a final pet before retreating completely, so that they’re not touching anymore.

Dean wants to grumble about it, wants to be pissed that Cas is so completely calm about this, only Dean knows that it’s an act. Because the evidence that Cas is as affected as Dean by their making out is right in front of his eyes, even though it’s still covered by slacks, and, Jesus H. Christ, Cas needs to get naked pronto.

“It would bring me great pleasure to take you apart but it would also bring me great pleasure to just be with you, Dean. The choice is yours,” Cas says earnestly.

“You tied me up about 30 seconds ago, Cas! And just to propose vanilla sex now? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with vanilla sex, but it seems like a wasted effort.”

“Dean,” Cas gives a long-suffering sigh. “You know exactly why I’m asking.”

And okay, maybe there is a little bit of a brat in Dean after all, because he can’t help his grin. But instead of pushing any further, he just asks a plain, “On my knees or on my back? How do you want me, Cas?

Cas assesses him with another long stare, then he nods. “On your back, arms over your head so that they come to rest next to the headboard.”

Dean complies without any further words.

“Do you think you can keep your arms there or do you want me to tie them to the headboard?”

“Uhh,” Dean says. “I have no idea?” Because he actually hasn't done this before. And also because this is Cas. “Got a feeling it's going to be hard to resist the urge to touch you.” Not that he could, the way his arms are bound. But he's pretty sure he's going to try.

“Hmm,” Cas smirks at him, “maybe I'll feel generous later. Right now, though…” Cas shrugs and gets up to get a second length of rope that he uses to fasten Dean’s arms to the  headboard. “There, better.”

Dean tests the give of the ropes and wiggles his fingers. He’s got no range for movement but nothing is going numb or otherwise overly uncomfortable. He can stay like this for a while. In fact, he kind of looks forward to it. Huh.

“Still okay?” Cas asks.

“Yeah,” Dean nods. “And thank you.”

Cas raises an eyebrow at him.

Dean grins. “You're still trying to avoid having to punish me. It's kind of sweet.”

Cas snorts a laugh but the mischievous smile that raises the corners of his lips promises nothing good for Dean. Or well, it promises interesting things anyway.

“You know what I think, Dean?” Cas says and leisurely drops a hand to Dean’s chest to play with the hair there. “I think you’re being a smartass because you want me to take this a step further. And you know what else? I think I’m inclined to grant you that wish.” He twists Dean’s nipple once, a short but determined movement that makes Dean gasp and arch his back off the bed, and gets up to collect more things from his bag.

He puts them in front of Dean when he comes back, showing them to him individually. Lube. Condoms. A small jingling ball. And a gag.

Dean swallows heavily.

“Some other time I will enjoy making you beg, but today, I think, your brain is thinking too much for you to fall into this unless I take away any means to influence the proceedings.”

He holds up the ball gag, though Dean had gotten the point before.

“Your color?” Cas asks.

It’s noticeable, how it’s the first time that Cas doesn’t ask whether he’s okay with this or gives him a different option. He could still bow out, of course. But the time for choices is over it seems.

“Green,” Dean says determinedly.

“Good,” Cas nods, his smile warm. “Then open up.”

For the first minute, it freaks him out, the intrusion in his mouth too big, especially lying on his back, and Dean has to swallow a few times to make sure that he can and that he can also breathe like this. Then he finds Cas’ eyes and nods.

“Good,” Cas murmurs again. He brushes a wayward strand of hair out of Dean’s face and presses the jingly ball into Dean’s right hand. Because his hand has ended up palm up, he doesn’t have to do much to keep the ball in hand. “Let it fall from your grasp and l will stop immediately. Understood?”

Dean nods. He is familiar with all of this after all, if not from the position he’s currently in.

“Good,” Cas repeats. He leans forward and plants a tiny kiss on Dean’s nose. “Here’s what I want of you, Dean: I want you to relax. I want you to feel. I want you to allow yourself to be in the moment. Don’t try to anticipate. Don’t try to help. Just be here with me. Feel my ropes holding you,” he lets his fingers glide over the ropes, “feel my gag keeping your mouth open,” he taps the ball gag with two fingers, “feel my hands and my mouth on you.”

With that, Cas swings a leg over Dean’s body to straddle him - and fuck Dean should have asked him to get naked while he had the chance - and leans forward to make good on his promise and get his mouth on Dean.

And if Dean sometimes thinks Cas misses a few social cues and isn’t really good with people, here, he knows what he’s doing. Or maybe he just knows Dean really well, and fuck, that’s an interesting thought, because they haven’t done this before so if Cas manages to hit all the right buttons, then it’s because he’s reading Dean like an open book, and Jesus Christ, Dean hadn’t even known that he wanted to be an open book for anyone, let alone that he would find it hot.

Hot enough, in fact, that it doesn’t take long until he starts squirming, effort to stay still too much. Cas doesn’t seem to mind, lets him struggle against his bonds and doesn’t comment when Dean throws his head back and lets his eyes fall closed.

Cas mouths a trail down Dean’s body, alternating between soft kisses and sucking at his skin. It’s the mixture of both, combined with the way Cas has positioned his weight on Dean’s legs, making sure that Dean can struggle all he want, he won’t find anything to rut against, that drives Dean slowly insane. He forgets that he can’t talk more than once, though he isn’t sure whether the garbled syllables that make it out of his mouth were supposed to egg Cas on or berate him for teasing or whether Cas’ prediction that he’s going to make Dean beg would be coming true much faster than expected if he hadn’t gagged Dean.

“You’re beautiful, Dean.” Cas murmurs it into Dean’s skin before nipping at his hip. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Dean mewls and it’s somewhere between a whimper and a protest because Cas is working his way towards where Dean really wants his mouth, but he’s still skirting the area.

“Shh,” Cas lets his hands glide along Dean’s sides, grip fast enough that it doesn’t tickle, but using calm steady motions to soothe Dean. “We’re getting there, I promise. But I think first I need to get rid of a few of these clothes.”

Dean’s eyes snap open.

Cas chuckles. “You approve of that, huh?”

Dean nods vigorously and strains to get his head up enough that he has a good view. Cas watches it for a moment before getting the second pillow from the side of the bed and tucking it under Dean’s head.

“Better?”

And Dean would say _yes_ and _thank you_ , only he can’t, so he goes with nodding again and keeps his eyes fastened to Cas.

“Eager,” Cas comments but judging by the bulge in his pants he’s probably just as eager to get out of these clothes.

Still, he takes his time. Dean should have expected it, but he can’t help his groan when Cas not only goes about unbuttoning every single button of his shirt taking the longest time possible, but also proceeds to carefully fold his shirt. It’s definitely sounds of protest coming out of his mouth this time, and Dean’s only a little disturbed by the fact that in the new position this means that some drool finds its way out of his mouth together with the mangled sounds. It’s Cas’ own fault for gagging him, really. If he finds spit unattractive, he shouldn’t have done it.

But then of course Cas’ little smirk at Dean’s unsuccessful attempts at getting any words out around the gag is completely unfair as well. “I can’t understand what you’re saying, Dean. Just give me a second, I’ll be right back with you.”

And Cas godfuckingdammit _turns away_ to unbutton his pants, modestly facing towards the wall. Dean grumbles some more about the unfairness of the whole world before deciding to quietly sulk though the rest of this torturous striptease.

Which, surprisingly, gets him rewarded with Cas turning back. “Done grumbling at me?” he asks.

And okay, Dean’s not stupid, he catches on to this game. He nods and keeps his body relaxed, not straining against the limitations of his position.

It makes Cas smile in acknowledgement. It also makes him drop his underwear and come back over to the bed.

This time, when Dean whimpers, it’s half in arousal and half in fear. Because, yeah, he’s bottomed before and yeah, as long as you have a reasonably attentive partner who gives you the time you need to open up, it’s not awful, but...

“Dean,” Cas frowns and puts a hand on the side of Dean’s face, stroking his thumb over Dean’s cheek, as predicted not minding the bit of spit he catches in the slightest. “Do you trust me?”

It’s not happened often but it has happened that Dean has had a drink or two and has let Cas drive them back in Baby, so Dean’s gotta say that he trusts Cas pretty darn much. Which is why he nods even though he can’t repress how his body is tensing and shivering.

“Shh,” Cas soothes again. He runs a hand through Dean’s hair and then there’s a click and the straps of the gag fall limp. Cas discards the gag to the side of the bed without a second look and leans in to kiss Dean soundly.

His mouth is too wet and too dry at the same time, too loose after having been held open for so long. So he doesn’t really get the pressure to kiss Cas back the way he wants to. It’s frustrating but when he strains to try, Cas presses him back into the pillows with one hand.

It’s only when he uses his other hand to wipe away wetness on Dean’s cheek, that Dean notices that that’s not spit but that he’s sniffling.

“I’m s-”

But Cas is faster and has a hand clamped over his mouth immediately. “Don’t. No apologies, Dean. They are not needed.”

The immediate answer to that is _sorry_ of course, but Dean swallows it and nods instead, so Cas lets him up. He picks up right where he left off, kissing Dean and then working over all the areas he’s already worshipped before.

It doesn’t take long before Dean starts panting again, the arousal he’d lost coming back. This time, Cas doesn’t stop when he reaches the outline of Dean’s panties. Instead, he carefully drags them down Dean’s legs.

“I wouldn’t want to destroy these.”

Dean isn’t sure it needs an answer or that it was even said for his benefit, the way Cas reverently puts the panties to the side.

And then they’re finally both gloriously naked, and it makes Dean’s heart beat faster and it gives him butterflies in his stomach, and…

“Do you still want this?” Cas asks.

“God, Cas, yes.” His voice rasps in his throat.

“And you trust me?”

“Yes,” Dean nods, because he does, and Cas has taken so much time with him already, he will take enough time for this, too.

“Good,” Cas nods. “That’s very good.” He grabs the lube from where it was laying innocently on the bed. “Let the ball fall or say your safeword if you want to stop. Otherwise this goes the way I want it to go. Understood?”

There’s a challenge and an order in his voice and Dean nods breathlessly. Opens his legs a little wider to make space to accommodate Cas. Who takes up the invitation and gets on his knees between Dean’s legs, before popping the bottle of lube open, squirting some of the liquid out and - reaching behind himself.

Dean’s pretty sure that his mouth hangs open as his brain reboots. Because that is definitely not what he was expecting. Cas keeps his eyes on Dean in the beginning, watching him closely, watching for any reaction to what he’s doing. Dean’s only reaction is to breathlessly stare. There’s a smile, small but deep, and then Cas lets his head sink forward as his fingers intrude and his body’s reactions become more urgent.

It’s incredible to watch. Cas concentrates on himself, little puffs of air drawn out of him whenever there’s a stretch, little moans of pleasure spilling over when a twist of his fingers feels particularly good. He isn’t loud but he’s uninhibited in both his noises and his movements, no shame about his body or what he’s doing.

“Cas,” Dean whispers quietly, reverently, the word falling from his lips without conscious thought. Because Cas keeps telling Dean he’s beautiful, but Cas is gorgeous like this, his chest flushed and heaving, his cock full and heavy, his breathing arrhythmic and yet in sync with the rest of him.

Dean thinks he could watch him for the rest of all eternity, and never mind that his own cock is so hard that it almost hurts. But this, this is a symphony. A concert of limbs and sounds and movement that is all Cas and yet all for Dean at the same time. He strains against the bonds after all, wants to touch Cas even though he knows he is audience right now and not a participant.

But then Cas looks up, dopey little smile on his face, flush going all the way up high into his cheekbones and he grabs the condoms from their place next to the lube. “Okay?” he asks, the one word wrecked and breathless.

And holy fuck, Dean is more than okay with this. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. So very okay with this.”

Cas honest to God _giggles_ at that, like he’s already reaching a high but he makes quick work of the condom wrappers and then rolls the condoms on with practiced movements.

And Dean would make a snarky comment about that - _you really hate wet spots, huh?_ \- only he knows Cas is being safe and he appreciates that, and he isn’t even sure his vocal chords would be up for that many words, anyway. Not when Cas changes position so that he’s kneeling over Dean. Not when he slowly but surely presses down and his heat engulfs him.

Dean gasps again, but tries to keep still, tries to give Cas the time to adjust, even though his hips urge him to move.

Cas gives himself a minute, eyes closed, relaxing his body, before he lets a rhythm take him over. It starts slow, tiny movements of Cas’ hips that get larger and more intense with each repetition. It’s steady like a drum beat and Dean meets the movements with his own, not even thinking about it, not trying to set his own rhythm but meeting Cas halfway.

At some point, Cas leans forward, his body fluid and more flexible than his stiff posture in the outside world lets on. Dean surges into the kiss, even though it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but he wants to feel any part of Cas’ skin that he can reach, wants to get as close as possible, even though he’s already in Cas’ body so that’s pretty damn close.

“Love you,” he murmurs into Cas’ mouth, lost between moans and whimpers, but Cas stiffens above him and then the world turns to a blinding white as all of Dean’s muscles contract.

 

When his consciousness returns to the world, Cas has collapsed onto him. He looks like a sprawled mess, his hair sticking every direction, and it would be fucking cute if he wasn’t lying directly on Dean’s chest and squeezing the air out of him.

“Hey Cas,” he nudges Cas’ head gently with his nose. “Care to move a tiny bit so that I can breathe and my arms won’t fall asleep?”

Cas grumbles something incoherent and it makes him sounds like an angry teddy bear. But he get his hands under him and with a kiss to Dean’s solar plexus starts to move.

Dean can literally watch it, how Cas shakes off the post-orgasm drowsiness while he follows what Dean thinks is his interior protocol. He frees them of the condoms first, tying them and discarding them in the waste bin. Then he gets a cloth and holds it under the sink in the corner, and cleans them off. The next time he comes back, he has two paper cups and a package of orange juice with him.

That’s also the time when he finally sits back down and starts untying the knots and unwrapping the ropes that hold Dean’s arms.

Dean watches him quietly.

Cas inspects Dean’s arms in detail once they’re free, rubbing over them to make sure that circulation is restored everywhere. Not that it was ever gone. After he’s satisfied with that, he pours the OJ, giving one cup to Dean and drinking the other himself. It’s kind of nice that they’re sharing the drink instead of the whole attention being on Dean. He’s not particularly good with the whole attention being on him in situations like this.

But he definitely doesn’t complain when Cas puts the cups to the side and crawls up next to Dean. He holds out his arm and Dean ducks under it, laying his own arm over Cas’ waist and searching his warmth. Cas presses a kiss to his hair and for a while, they drift. They’re breathing syncs up at some point, an even rise and fall of their chests. Dean closes his eyes for a bit, though he’s in that pleasant place where time has no meaning and everything is warmth and soft colors, and he doesn’t have any intention of leaving that place to actually fall asleep.

After a while, though, his mind is drawn back into his body and he starts blinking his eyes open. When he turns his head to look at Cas, he finds Cas already wide awake and watching him.

“Hey,” Dean mutters.

“Hello Dean,” Cas greets back.

“They’re gonna throw us out of here any minute,” Dean mumbles. “Think we were probably supposed to vacate the room an hour ago.”

Cas chuckles softly. “I think not as much time has passed as you expect. We have a little while still.”

“Hmm, okay,” Dean nods because that is easiest.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s a loaded question. It always is for him. The last remnants of the fluffy clouds leave his brain and he sighs as he makes the effort and sits up.

“Dean?”

He shrugs, though it doesn’t come off nearly as nonchalant as he wants it to come off. “Depends, I guess.”

“Depends on what?” Cas asks back.

“On whether you meant all the shit you said.” Dean scratches his neck embarrassedly.

Cas frowns and it makes Dean wish he hadn't sat up because then he could hide his face in Cas‘ side. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I dunno,” Dean shrugs. “Heat of the moment kind of thing?”

“Will you go on a date with me, Dean?”

“What?” Dean had gotten ready to be defensive so the question throws him.

“I would like to ask you out on a proper date,” Cas repeats.

“Not at the club?” Dean asks back just to make sure.

“Not at the club,” Cas confirms. “I would like to invite you to dinner. Clothes and everything.”

Dean chuckles a little because for some reason the little joke seems hilarious, and also he likes the sound of a dinner date. “Okay, yes, sure. When?”

“Next Saturday?”

And ugh, that's a whole week away. It makes his stomach feel a little queasy but he nods. “Okay, you got yourself a date.” An actual date this time it seems.

“Where are you going?” Cas snatches Dean's hand when Dean wants to get up from the bed.

“Umm, to get dressed?” Dean says confused.

Cas shakes his head. “We're not done here.”

“Cas, I don't need all of this.” He gestures at Cas’ aftercare setup.

“I disagree. You need it and frankly I need it, too. Both the being close to you and talking about any immediate feelings the scene conjured.” Cas trails off and tilts his head like he's thinking about something. His voice is more hesitant when he starts up again. “There is one concession I would make.”

Dean raises his eyebrows.

“I bought pie. It's in the fridge at home.”

The thought of pie instantly makes Dean’s stomach grumble “You were hopeful.”

Cas shrugs. “It could have been an apology pie otherwise. It’s blueberry.”

“Blueberry, huh?” Dean asks.

“Would you like to come home with me and eat blueberry pie?”

“Will there be snuggling on the couch?” Dean asks. He tries to make it sound snarky.

“Yes,” Cas nods. “My only concession is the location change. In all other regards I still intend to give you the same aftercare you would have gotten here.”

And something about that is so incredibly sweet that Dean doesn’t have it in himself to protest. “Alright, Cas. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback gives me life. And if you tell me your wishes (for this verse or others), there is a chance that you'll get some of these stories.


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